I Can't Breathe Anymore
by janereid
Summary: Connections happen in the most unusual places. What happens when Spencer Reid's addiction relapses and puts him into rehab and there he meets a girl that can not only mend his heart but maybe even keep it. Reid/OC
1. Observation

I Can't Breathe Anymore

Chapter 1

I tried, I tried so hard to keep myself balanced. I tried so hard to make sure I was smiling genuinely. I tried so hard to make sure my eyes were bright. I tried so hard to laugh whole heartedly. I tried so hard to feel loved. I tried so hard to feel wanted. I tried so hard to feel important. I tried so hard to believe in myself. I tried so hard to be happy.

I did everything the doctors told me to do, word for word. I always took my medication, everyday and night. When I had my urges I would snap a rubber band on my wrist, go for a walk, take a shower, clean something. When I felt alone I made sure to be around people that I loved; none of it worked.

Here I am now, sitting in my white gradient bathtub. A bloody razor in my right hand, and a red stream flowing down my left wrist. The stream flowed down the white canyons and grooves of past pain. Some of those canyons are older than the grooves that over lap them. Then I open another pale floodgate to deepen the crimson stream and turn it into a river.

Usually this helped, helped me feel some sense of control. But it was different this time, the usual two cuts that seemed to give me relief only made me feel slightly better, not the usual satisfaction. I didn't feel like I was in control at all, I was spiraling. I couldn't see past the black mass of darkness engulfing my body and soul. I was drowning and being sucked out to sea by the rip current I cal reality. It was as if the oxygen in the room suddenly vanished and it felt like my lungs were caving in like a mineshaft. I needed more. With each slice my arm was painted scarlet with the metal brush until the snow canvas was crying blood. It was then when I realized I had done too much and had gone too deep. But I felt calm, serene, surreal if you will. The thought of a never ending dreamless sleep seemed to be the most delightful thought in the world. This excited me, I wanted it to come and take the pain away, take the bullshit and stress away, bring me freedom. I then took the blade into my left hand and slit a deep gash across my right wrist and watched intently as the blood covered the few scars on my dominant wrist and forearm. Dad, oh no, why did I think of him, why didn't I think of him in the first place.

Quickly I reached for my cellphone that was foisted on the edge of my bathtub and quickly dialed 911. I held the phone up to my ear as I felt the blood loss finally kick in. I was shaking, and feeling light headed but I didn't see the severity until I had looked down too see that blood was beginning to pool in the tub, my clothes were becoming soaked with it.

"911 what's your emergency?" The operator asked that stoically. I didn't blame her it was 1:30 in the morning good going, way to mess up someone's night even more, what's wrong with me? I'm talking down to myself when I'm dying.

"I-I need h-help, I-I m-m-made a mistake. You have my address have them kick down my front door and bathroom door. Hurry there's so much blood." I said as quickly as possible, my voice was shaking, but I tried to keep my heart rate steady so I didn't increase my blood flow.

"Sweetie, I'm going to have you stay on the line with me, can you do that?" The operator asked with a calm voice, trying to keep me calm in the situation.

"Yes." I replied tiredly, the feeling of the loss of blood was really taking its tool as I tried to keep my eyes open and my mind alert.

"We've sent help honey, my name is Grace, can you tell me what your name is?"

"K-Kennedy ." I stuttued in an almost inaudible whisper and that's when it happened.

The dreamless sleep.

Three weeks later

I was sitting on my stiff rock they call a mattress in this institution. My knees were crushing my chest as I hugged them so tight I was convinced they would begin to lose circulation.

I've never felt so imprisoned in my life. Confined in a room with pale green walls that matched horridly with the oak hardwood flooring. The only thing that kept her from going stir crazy in the room was the large bay window that overlooked the center's garden.

They say that places like these are supposed to help the mentally the addicts, the depressed, the disorders, the depression; but it makes it worse. The confinement and forced socialization make it so much worse, at least for me. The idea of have to sit in a circle with other depressed and self destructive people doesn't help me feel better or find self worth, it makes me feel worse and annoyed. I know I sound selfish for saying that I get annoyed when I have to sit and listen to someone else's problems but I want to fix my own, not waste time by listening to someone try to fix theirs.

Letting a sigh escape from my lips as I let go of the hold on my legs and swung them around the bed and into the floor as I stood up. I smoothed out the gray sweatpants and light blue T-shirt that they issue us to wear everyday. I've always hated the idea and concept of uniforms, not individualizing myself was the worst feeling in the world.

I trudged over to the window and boot a seat on it and relaxed against the pillows and leaned her head against the glass. I usually did this most of the day, observed people. But, there was one person I enjoyed watching in particular, a man I would see around the building, not just in the courtyard. He was skinny, too skinny, his build was tall, slender, and a little lanky, his arms were toned though. His face was thin, dark circles haunted his hazel eyes, and he had a mop of short, curly brown hair resting on his head. From being around him I knew his name was Spencer, I wouldn't know his last name due to patient confidentiality we only addressed and were addressed by out first names. I wasn't even sure if he knew my name, I wouldn't doubt or be offended, people didn't usually pay any mind to me, and I didn't mind.

I enjoyed watching Spencer because I found him so different. He was so patient, intelligent, and interesting. I loved watching him play chess, he would play with the other patients sometimes, but most of the time he would play by himself. Other times he would sit on one of the many benches with a stack of books and with in the hour he would finish one book and begin on another.

I couldn't help but wonder if he ever noticed me from time to time, even if he knows me as the freak that keeps watching him from her window, at least that's something, right?

My thoughts were interrupted as I hear a knock and my door open. I look over to see my doctor, Dr. Roseburge, a woman of Asian decent and in her early forties, saying that she was very kind was an absolute understatement.

"Kennedy, when was the last time you were outside?" She asked with a soft smile as she stood in the doorway. I knew that because she wasn't entering I would be leaving.

"A couple of days ago, why?" I asked as I lifted myself from the pillows surrounding my window.

"I think it's best you spend time in the garden, there's a man asking for you."


	2. Finifugal

**I Can't Breathe Anymore **

**Chapter 2: Finifugal **

**Woah, thanks guys I'm surprised how quick this caught on compared to I&M. Please don't forget to review! I love both positive and negative feedback so please review it makes my day! Just letting you guys know that this takes place a few months after the one year anniversary of Maeve's death! Thanks again for the follows and reviews! **

I trudged down the two flights stairs that separated my floor from the garden. I pretty much figured it was Spencer asking for me and that made me feel nervous. What was I going to say? "Sorry for creeping on you but I find you intriguing and my anxiety prevents me from striking up a conversation so I watch you instead." Yeah, I don't think so.

I smiled softly as I felt the breeze hit my cheeks, I wasn't really an outside person but every now and again I enjoyed it. I looked around the courtyard, taking in the trees starting to blossom as spring was just starting. I had forgotten to grab my jacket so luckily for me it was warm today. I was snapped out of my head when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I turned around to see a rather tall and familiar man in front of me. This man was the man I had watched for weeks, the very one that sparked my interest on the dullest day; none other than Spencer.

"It's Kennedy, right?" Spencer asked with uncertainty tainting his voice, his voice flowed just like velvet to my ears.

"Yes, Spencer?" I asked feeling like a total idiot. Of course I knew his name is Spencer but I didn't want him to know that. There is nothing more awkward than knowing who someone is but that person doesn't know who you are.

"I'm sure you already knew that though, I asked to see you because I couldn't help but notice you watching me." He admitted with a small grin "I wanted to find out why, I'm assuming you aren't a stalker, you're probably just lonely and just want someone to talk to but you're shy, maybe a little shyer than myself if I'm striking the conversation." Spencer rattled off rather quickly. His half accurate analysis made me chuckle a little.

"You're half correct. It's not that I'm lonely, I'm just a little shy that's all." I admitted with a small blush and a genuine smile. The first real smile I had made in weeks "so did you call me over just to introduce yourself?"

"That's a very good question, we could leave it at an introduction but if you ask me I'd rather not." Spencer said, his voice broke a bit which made me think he was nervous, I wouldn't know why, a handsome man like himself should have more confidence in himself.

"I'd like more than an introduction too." I said as I walked over to the nearest chess table. When I took a seat I almost laughed at the overly excited look on his face, it almost hurt to have to let him down. When he took his seat I finally spoke up again "I don't play, I just have this thing where I like sitting across from people when I have a conversation, plus I can see that you're a little nervous so I figured why not sit where you're comfortable." I pointed out with a soft smile which seemed to rub off on the man because he started to smile with me.

"I like that." He grinned "you seem pretty confident so tell me how did you end up in a place like this?"

"I always hate to ruin conversations before they even start, Spencer." I explained with a slightly nervous smile, not really wanting to bring it up. I quickly held my left wrist. Spencer must have noticed my action because when he looked down he stiffened and looked back up at me with an apologetic expression, but not like the look a therapist gives you, or a friend gives you, but an expression someone with a past of demons would give you.

"I can understand that so tell me about yourself then?" He asked almost hesitantly.

I gave him a soft smile before beginning "Well as you know already my name is Kennedy, I'm 23 years old, I'm currently studying to gain my degree in journalism , my hobbies include writing, knitting, decorating, and baking."

Spencer studied me for a moment before cracking a grin "is there any specific type if journalism that you are interested in or just in general?"

"Specifically I'm into crime journalism. I want to give Nancy Grace a run for her money someday." I explained with a small laugh and I felt fulfilled when my little joke made Spencer laugh.

"That's an interest concept, Kennedy. Why crime though? I'm sure it'll start wearing you down after a while, even make you a little angry."

"I grew up with it. My mother is a judge, my father is of high ranking in the FBI, and my brother is a police officer. I'm not much for violence but its like a calling." I told him with a small shrug at the end. I didn't really want to mention that my father was director of the FBI, not exactly something you want to talk about if your goal isn't to intimidate the handsome man in front of you. I guess it didn't have to be said, seeing that when I did mention that he worked for the FBI Spencer's expression changed from a light casual expression to an intent full look.

"FBI? Really? That's quite impressive."

"Yeah, we are very proud of him and his achievements. So tell me about yourself." I said as I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to freak him out anymore than what I have already.

"I am 32 years old, I have three PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering. I enjoy reading, playing chess, magic tricks, and Doctor Who." Spencer said casually, which I couldn't understand, if I had three PhDs I would be freaking out and bragging to everyone I saw, but that wasn't Spencer, I could tell.

"That's outstanding, so tell me, are you some sort of genius?" I asked rather playfully which made the doctor blush.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified but yes, most will say I'm a genius." He chuckled softly despite himself.

"Interesting, so Doctor, are you going to show me any magic tricks?"

"Maybe, depends on how quickly you can learn chess."

**Sorry this is so short! I've been really busy and I didn't want to leave you without an update!**


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